Sherlock Holmes and the Jabberwocky Murders
by Peter Piper
Summary: After losing a trusted friend and employee, Sherlock Holmes lolls around in Baker Street, his spirit gone, and his friend Dr John Watson worried over such a prolonged bout of depression. But this all changes in an instant when a knock at the door stirs Ho
1. The First Letter

**CHAPTER ONETHE FIRST LETTER**

**221B Baker Street was unusually quiet. It's famed resident sat deep in thought in front of the drawing room fire, his full calumet pipe left unsmoked on the table in the middle of the room, and his violin, leaning against the study wall, unplayed in three weeks.**

**Sherlock Holmes continued to stare into the dying embers of the fire, while his associate, Dr John Watson, sat opposite, looking very concerned for his friend.**

" **Dammit, Holmes! You cannot go on like this! It's not your fault that that dashed fellow missed you, and killed Mrs Hudson with his poison dart! You must not blame yourself, Holmes, Mrs Hudson wouldn't want you to!"**

**Sherlock Holmes finally stirred, only to dismiss his friend's assertion with a question.**

" **Wouldn't she, Watson, wouldn't she?"**

" **What do you mean by that, Holmes?" replied the mystified Doctor.**

**Holmes was about to tell his friend that as his elderly housekeeper, Mrs Flora Hudson died in his arms, the poison dart still deep in her generous Scottish backside, her dying words were " It's all your fault, Mr Holmes, and to think I was about to ret..." Mrs Hudson did not even manage to tell her employer she was indeed retiring, **

**and duly died, her index finger pointing right at Holmes.**

**But neither did Holmes manage to pass on the old lady's last words, as the two friends were interrupted by a knock at the door.**

**Both Holmes and Watson looked at each other, waiting for the housekeeper they didn't have any more to see who was calling. Finally, Watson arose from his seat, muttering 'damned stupid housekeeper, what did she have to get her fat backside in the way for? Mind you, then Holmes would have got it, or me. Oh well, well done, Old Girl."**

**He reached the door and opened it and standing there was a cabbie known to both men, his having picked them up on many occasions over the years.**

" **Leggy Lewis! What on earth brings you here this time of night!" chortled Dr Watson.**

" **Er, begs your puddin', Dr Watson, and you, Mr 'Olmes, ( he leaned past Watson as he said this ) but I'se been asked to give you this, not ten minutes ago."**

" **What is it, Watson?" asked Holmes, who had finally turned his gaze away from the fire, and stared over at the door, curious as to what the cabbie had brought.**

" **Have a bit of patience, Holmes, I don't know m'self yet. Huh, most impatient fellow I've ever met." replied Watson, lowering his voice to a mutter.**

**Lewis passed a letter to Dr Watson, and then just stood there grinning, with his hand half raised and half open. His hand was still half raised and half open as the door was slammed in front of his face.**

**Watson walked straight across to Holmes, who was now stood by the fireplace.**

" **It's a letter, there you are, old fellow, it's addressed to you." said Watson.**

**Holmes took the letter from Watson, and read it out loud:**

" **John Smith will die tonight. He will then be the late John Smith. You, Mr Sherlock Holmes will be too late to prevent his death.**

**I will contact you again, Mr Holmes, when I am about to wipe the grin off another fellow's face.**

**Yours Faithfully**

**Jabberwocky"**

" **What on earth is this all about, Holmes?"**

" **I don't know, Watson, like you, I have just read the contents of this letter. However, our not knowing is confined to the reasons why, for now, but we do know that someone named John Smith is about to die. We've no time to lose, Watson, although we may still be too late. I'll contact Lastrade, you get onto the Post Office, and the Census people, we need the address of every John Smith within the sound of Bow Bells."**

" **But what about outside London? It could be any John Smith, anywhere in the country."**

" **I don't think so, Watson. The cabbie brought the letter, he only works in London."**

" **But what if he had an accomplice, from Manchester, or Scotland, anywhere at all?"**

" **No. The ink from the pen which was used to write the letter is also on the outside of the envelope, and just before you unceremoniously closed the door on our friend the cabbie, I noticed that he had the same ink on his hands. The letter, my dear Watson, was written shortly before we received it."**

" **Yes, but what if an accomplice simply followed instructions?"**

" **That, Watson, is a chance I am prepared to take. Come, the game's afoot!"**

**Holmes and Watson both left 221b Baker Street in pursuit of a twisted murderer by the name of Jabberwocky.**

8


	2. Too Late

**CHAPTER TWOTOO LATE**

**Holmes hailed a cab immediately upon stepping out onto Baker Street and urged the cabbie to get to Scotland Yard as soon as was humanly, and equinially possible, after dropping Watson off at the Whitehall Postal Depot for Central London. **

**Holmes wanted to show Inspector Lastrade, his long-time exchequered associate, although not friend, the letter he had received, and to request the diverting of all resources to finding this mysterious Jabberwocky, and hopefully prevent the murder of one John Smith.**

**Holmes soon found himself at the public enquiry desk, just inside the large, drab building which was Scotland Yard, headquarters of the Metropolitan Police.**

" **I'm sorry." said Sergeant Burdock, a small but cheery red-faced chap from behind the counter. " But Inspector Lastrade don' work nights as such, if we sees him 'ere, it's cos 'e's been kept late. There's noffink I can do."**

" '**Ere! Dandelion! Your Rosie's ready!" came a shout from down the corridor.**

**But Holmes was not to be put off.**

" **Now, erm, Dandelion, before you go and have your well earned cup of tea after building up a terrible thirst stopping villains from vandalising the desk, please ask one of your coachmen to take me to the Inspector's house."**

" '**Ere! No need to take that tone wiv me!" replied Sergeant Dan 'Dandelion' Burdock. But his insulted countenance then saw an opportunity to be rid of his antagonist, and let him have his cup of Rosie Lee in peace. A young police-coach driver was just coming in for his own tea-break, but it soon became clear he wasn't going to get it. 'Ere you, 'Iggins! Take this genklman to Tippler's house. Quick about it Lad!"**

**Thirty minutes later, Holmes was sitting in the White Chapel home of Inspector Lastrade.**

" **I 'ope this is serious, Mr 'Olmes, last time you got me out my kip, you had me chasing every Chinese Laundryman all night long." yawned Lastrade, bleary eyed, and in red and blue pyjamas.**

" **Read this, Lastrade, a man's life is at stake."**

" **Now why doesn't that surprise me?" replied Lastrade.**

**He screwed up his eyes, and tried to read the contents of the letter.**

" '**This aint no good, can't see a thing, not 'til I've had a tipple, fancy one?"**

" **Yes, why not."**

**Holmes smiled as Lastrade went to a cupboard at the side of the lounge and brought back two glasses and a bottle of whiskey. He now knew why Sergeant Dan 'Dandelion' Burdock had called him 'Tippler', although he had at least a fair idea this was not to Lastrade's face.**

**Lastrade read the letter as both men sipped their whiskey.**

" **Jabberwocky! What sort of darn name is that?" exclaimed Lastrade.**

" **A murderer advertising his intentions, rarely uses his real name, Lastrade, I thought you of all people would have known that. ( This drew a momentary look of anger and embarrassment from Lastrade. ) But if you must know, Jabberwocky is a fictional beast from the delightfully mad imagination of Lewis Carroll." replied a rather smug looking Sherlock Holmes.**

" **What! The fellow who wrote Alice in Wonderland?" spluttered Lastrade.**

" **Yes, Lastrade, the fellow who wrote Alice in Wonderland." **

" **Right, that's it then. I'll have this Carroll fellow arrested at once."**

" **Well I hope you call the cemeteries board to help, you'll need them."**

" **What! He's dead!"**

" **Yes, last year." **

" **Oh. Fair enough, Mr Holmes, but if you ask me, we'll be chasing a murderer rather than saving this Smith fellow's life. It's an impossible task."**

" **Yes, yes," sighed Holmes. " I can't help but agree, but murderers have got to be caught, and it's obvious he's not going to stop at just one murder."**

" **You said he. It could be a woman." suggested Lastrade.**

" **I doubt it, Lastrade, I could smell aftershave on the letter."**

" **That could be a red-herring to put you off." replied Lastrade.**

" **Deduction is never an exact science so early on in an investigation, Lastrade, you know this. Yes, it could be a woman, but I doubt it. I'll have to go with that assumption, for now at any rate, and if it's to lure me into some sort of trap, well, in I go."**

" **Yes, I see what you mean." replied the rueful Lastrade. **

" **Now then, Lastrade, I will have to get back to Baker Street. It's not long before dawn, I will meet you at Scotland Yard, at let's say 7 O'clock? Please muster as many men as you can."**

" **May I remind you, Mr Holmes, that it is I that holds Her Majesty's Warrant, and not you."**

" **Oh, yes of course, sorry, old man. Well then, what do we do?"**

" **Erm, well now, I suggest we, er, dammit Holmes! I'll meet you at seven with every man-jack togged up and ready to go!"**

" **That's the spirit, Lastrade!"**

**Holmes was up and out of the house in a second, while Lastrade could only scratch his head, somehow feeling he had been out-manoeuvred yet again by his colleague from the private sector. But then Lastrade smiled. Although he felt that Holmes was a veritable bane in his life, he was still glad that he could call on the world's greatest detective to help when need be.**

**Holmes arrived back at Baker Street. On walking into the study, he found Watson standing and arguing with two other men.**

" **There's no other way, I tell you!" yelled Watson, upon hearing the small, scrawny but well groomed old man refuse his request for the hundredth time. " We need those addresses, and we need them no.. ah, Holmes! About time! Please allow me to introduce you to Sir Jasper Hollis, Post-Master General, and the Honourable Harcourt...**

" **Don't worry, Watson, I am well acquainted with both men. Now, gentlemen, please sit, and we'll discuss the matter in as civil a manner as the urgency of the situation allows."**

**Despite the continued protests from both Sir Jasper and the Honourable Harcourt Pike, Chief Registrar of the Census Office, Holmes' impassioned pleas backed up with the very real threat of the involvement of the Metropolitan Police at the highest level, saw both dignitaries back down and cede to the famed detectives wishes. But Holmes did not share one important piece of information with either of his visitors nor Watson. He knew it would be too late for the currently unknown, and possibly already late John Smith, he was simply preparing both the Post Office and the Census Office with the mammoth task of helping with other addresses of other possible victims as the case progressed. But then Holmes heard footsteps, running, and nearing 221B.**

" **Thank you, gentleman, for your co-operation. I can assure you it is a matter of life and death, now, I am so sorry to be rude, but Watson and I have preparations to make. Please have your offices open and running twenty four hours a day for as long as it is deemed necessary by Inspector Lastrade, and er, me. Thank you."**

**The two mystified men were hurried out of the apartment at the same time as a series of loud repeated knocks on the front door. **

**Holmes opened the door, and did all he could to expedite the men's departure, just falling short of shoving them out onto the pavement.**

**The person who had knocked so frantically on the door was none other than Sergeant Burdock.**

" **Ah, Dandelion, I thought it might be you?"**

" **Did you, Mr 'Olmes, 'ow's that then?" replied Sergeant Burdock.**

**Holmes did not answer and instead beckoned the sergeant to follow him back up the stairs and into the study. Watson was as confused as his two previous visitors, as their latest guest was asked to sit down.**

" **Now, Sergeant, why are you here?" asked Holmes.**

" **Tipp, er, Inspector Lastrade asked me to call. A man has been found, knifed to death, and this was found by the body." He handed Holmes a letter, similar to the one he had received earlier from the cabbie.**

" **What is it, Holmes?" asked Watson.**

" **Now who's being impatient!" He opened the letter and read it aloud.**

" **John Smith is dead, Mr Holmes, and you couldn't stop it, could you? This will reflect badly on you, and I know this will haunt you for days, weeks, maybe months and years. That gladdens my heart. But before you return to your tea party, know this. Before the month is out, a man will be buried in salt, but the cheese sandwiches afterwards should be nice.**

**Yours Faithfully**

**Jabberwocky"**

" **One question, Sergeant, where did you find the body?"**

" **In the White Rabbit Hotel in Knightsbridge. The maid answered a call from room 37D, occupied at the time by one John Smith, of, erm, London."**

**Holmes did not answer, but his brow was immediately furrowed and his eyes let both Watson and the sergeant know that he was 'miles away'.**

" **Er, excuse me, Mr Holmes, is there a message for the Inspector? I have to return to my duties." asked the anxious policeman.**

**But Holmes' mind was racing.**

" **Holmes, old fellow, the sergeant needs an answer." said Watson, trying to jolt his friend back to the here and now.**

" **Oh, erm, sorry, Sergeant. Tell Lastrade I will see him as planned. That's all."**

" **Very good, sir. Goodbye to you both."**

**The sergeant left the apartment and Holmes immediately lit his pipe and sat in front of the fire, while Watson read the letter again to himself. He also picked up the first letter, and began to cross-reference both. Eventually, he put both letters down and sat opposite Holmes, muttering 'damn lot of nonsense. Could easily be Alice in Wonderland."**

**Holmes did not kiss other men very often at all, in fact the last time he did so was when his father lay in a coffin at the funeral parlour, but he did so now. He leapt out of his seat and planted a huge squishy smacker right on Watson's forehead.**

" **Steady on, old man, think of the Empire!"**

" **Watson! That's it! It's been niggling at me all night! The murderer is playing games with us!"**

" **Well, yes, we knew that already, didn't we?"**

" **Yes, Watson, we know it's a game, but we didn't know what game! Now we know! There must be clues to the murder, or sadly, murders, in Alice in Wonderland! How and why exactly remains to be seen, but at least it's a start. Well done, my old friend, well done!"**

" **Well, what do we do now?" asked Watson.**

" **To the Library, Watson, to the Library!"**

" **What about Scotland Yard!"**

" **Oh, sorry, yes, to Scotland Yard. We'll still need a copy of the book, though."**

" **You go on then, old chap, I'll call in at the Chelsea Borough Library. My niece works there, she'll fetch it for me from the children's section."**

" **Good, good, well then, ready?"**

14


End file.
